The Doctor & 4

Note: This story was written for the Holby City Scrubin a few months ago where luckily thanks to the fantastic running of it I was able to get someone else to upload the story on A03 for me. The story was in its final edit before sadly my mother passed away so I was unable to finish the final edit but still wanted to share it for people to enjoy if it was their kind of thing. I haven't been around online much if at all the past 2 months because of my grief & other problems I'm trying to resolve but I managed to find the energy, courage  & motivation to share this story here also. The formatting may be a little wonky but in all honestly I don't have the energy or motivation to go through it all at this point in time. Please enjoy. 

P.s, I haven't read this story since it was posted on A03 and so haven't actually ever got around to finishing  the final edit but perhaps I shall one day. Thank you! :) 

Storge < Philia

Quiet was all Dylan Keogh usually needed in order to remain a somewhat normal man. On the occasions he was unable to focus on the work of unknotting his mind, he read to his half sister Rihanna with a low voice during the late hours as the boat rocked slightly with the force of water underneath. The one year old stayed with him a few nights each week and tonight was a typical Rihanna night with Dylan reading to her from an old C.S Lewis volume he had in hand, bobbing her on his knee.
'Love, affection.'
He Said, leaning back into the chair with an arm wrapped around her.
'Almost everyone it seems can be loved with storge, the ugly, the stupid, even the exasperating can be its objects. There need be no apparent fitness between those whom it unites. It ignores even the barriers between species... What is common to all objects of storge is that they are familiar. We can often identify the very day and hour when a friendship began or when we fell in love. But we never catch storge at the moment of its beginning. To become aware of it is to become aware that it's already been going on for some time.'
Rihanna was far more amused in slapping her small hands against Dylan's arm before enthusiastically jumping on his knee as he continued to bob her. Dylan resumed reading.
' Philia, means "affectionate regard, friendship," usually between equals. It is a dispassionate virtuous love. Philia is expressed variously as loyalty to friends.'
Lowering the book with a thoughtful brow as he looked at Rihanna who was staring up at him, babbling to herself with the infant dribble leaking from her mouth, though Dylan was greatful it wasn't her nose or elsewhere.
'When you start speaking greek you'll have a head start.'
He said, nodding to himself placing the book down and taking Rihanna in both arms to the shelf in order to scan over the remaining books.
'We have read almost all these, Rihanna. I know but I'm sure under all that gloop and lack of verbal competence you're practically Einstein.'
An edge of sarcasm biting through though Dylan did find great comfort in Rihanna. A boat, dog, good book and Rihanna is all he needed.
His phone beginning to ring, resting Rihanna into her travel cot with her small bear after locating it on the floor where it had fallen previously before answering.
'Keogh.'
'Dylan, it's Louise. I just thought I should let you know that your father is here again.'
'Smashed another car window has he? Or the smoking finally offed him.'
A silence followed by an uncomfortable rush swiping Dylan before Louise spoke again.
'He's not very well Dylan. You should come see him.'
'What is it? I'm quite busy at this very moment in time.'
'You don't want to talk about this over the phone.'
'No, that is exactly what I want.'
Louise grumbling. Dylan could feel her frustration as he looked over at Rihanna before strolling into the kitchen.
'He came in last night in a bad way. He's been in intensive care since. He's intermittently conscious and in very poor health. He has liver cirrhosis, as we know, but his immediate danger is from a lung infection.'
She paused.
'he has been very sick for a long time. It's possible he was avoiding going to a doctor or hospital but he is very unwell.'
Dylan hung up. He didn't need to hear this; he didn't want to hear it. Pain coursed through him. Despite all the hate he marinated for his father there was still a small boy inside him breaking down at the thought of losing his daddy again. That small boy screaming for Dylan to go to the hospital and see his father, but he wouldn't; he couldn't. Fear motivated and destroyed him at the same time as he gazed through the wall in front of him. Unable to move, unable to think, unable to feel. Little boy cowering in his own mind, falling into a dark corner, knees being drawn to his chest with tears working their way down his cheeks, gathering at his chin. Dylan was drawn back to the room by Rihanna crying out. He darted to her to find she was just laughing. Such innocent laughing whilst she slapped the teddy off the cot and Dylan wondered how something so small and pointless could bring so much joy.